SANCTUM | Avengers

4

- FOUR -

A week passes by before it seems to settle in, what I've done.

My punishment was not as severe as expected, but training is more intense and strenuous than ever. Not a minute of my day is spent out of either the target range or the training rooms.

Countless extra hours of fighting and studying. Refining my skills and learning new techniques. My body, at some point yearned for rest, but that time has long passed. My brain runs on adrenaline.

I am the only one left, after all.

I turn again and again, pirouetting until my momentum is gone. Landing in first position, I feel and wooden rod hit my back. I quickly straighten my back again.

"Your posture is sloppy and your pirouettes are slow," Teacher chimes, without patience.

"Again."

I practice my posture for the hours to come. I spin, jump, turn and leap until I see the blood through the fabric of my point shoes. Still, I continue, ignoring the ache in my feet.

When the music stops, my breath heaves in the quiet room.

Then I realize.

My routine, finished perfectly, without a flaw. I stand and look at Teacher, awaiting her criticism.

"Get changed, we must still continue."

Nodding, I move to the bench at the side of the long room, removing my shoes and slipping off my leotard and tights. I almost smile to myself. That was closest she had ever come to complimenting me in the years I had been here. I tug on the same uniform I wear everyday, but it feels different. I keep the smile off my lips, but my heart lifts in my chest.

Hours later, I throw another punch at the man in front of me, which lands on his jaw.
His bulky body slows him down, and I dodge each of his punches without a thought.

"Offence, Blahov!" I hear from outside the ring.

Offence.

I charge, dodging the mans punch and gripping his shoulders firmly. Pushing off of the floor, I straddle his neck squeezing tight.

I have lost track of all the fights I have won and lost through the years. My muscles scream and I maybe I scream, too. I can't tell. As I feel the man squirm beneath me, flashes of that night stream in and out of my mind. I see her face, I see the quinjet, I see the... freedom. No, not my freedom- never mine.

For the first time, my anger takes control.

Black dots cloud my vision and the man hits my leg, attempting to tap out.

To get me to stop.

Nothing stops me now. He falls to his knees unable to stand any longer as I cut off all circulation in his body.

"Blahov" I hear from beside the mat. I hear Teachers voice as if it is underwater; muffled and far away.

The black dots clouding my vision turn red as I squeeze harder, finally feel his body become slack.

All I hear are the sounds of my ragged breaths and my pumping heart.  Satisfaction replaces anger, and it washes over me once again.

Standing, I hear voices talking behind me. Their muffled voices become louder as my breathing evens. I don' t need to look at them to hear what they're saying.

"She is ready."

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The new room I've been placed into is unfamiliar, and one of the only rooms the I'd never entered in all my years of training.